Families
by worldinaleaf
Summary: Prompt: Blaine's husband died some years ago and, while trying to rebuilt a life for himself and his son (or daughter), he eventually falls in love again. The problem is that his son doesn't want anything to do with his new boyfriend and, between that and the vague guilt he felt when he thought about his husband, he decides he can't keep seeing this man.
1. Chapter 1

Alex sat in his room, glad that he was alone in his room with the door locked. He stared angrily at the wall in front of him and hoped that it would smolder to ashes under his glare. Furiously trying to blink the tears pooling in his eyes away, he reached out under the pillow and pulled out a worn picture in a frame. A happy family looked back at him – two men, one blond and one with dark curls, had their arms tight around each other, smiling into a kiss as the baby in the blond man's arms reached out to the camera with his pudgy arms outstretched. Daddy Blaine, Papa Matthew and baby Alex, twelve years ago.

Now that picture would be incomplete. It would just be a picture of a curly haired man trying to make ends meet and hold himself together, devoting himself to a thirteen-year-old boy and his happiness. Except they both weren't happy. Not without Papa Matthew.

That's what you think, a vicious voice rose inside Alex's mind. That's what you thought, till Kurt Hummel came into the picture. Daddy Blaine started smiling again, blushing, going on dates, and sharing stolen kisses. Kurt Hummel, fashion designer extraordinaire, with his face pasted on the front page of the top fashion magazines as the best upcoming designer to watch out for. Kurt Hummel, who made Blaine smile like he did when he was with Matthew.

Alex had been surprised at how much he'd hated that look on his father's face. That wasn't a look for anybody else, it was special, and it had to be only for Papa Matthew. It wasn't something you gave away to Kurt, to someone who he barely knew, someone who thought he had a claim to Blaine. No way, Alex thought fiercely. No way. He wouldn't let Kurt shove the memories of his father away; he wouldn't let him take that place without a fight. He would never acknowledge this relationship, not positively.

He stood up, putting on his boxing gloves and taking his position in the corner of his room near the sandbag, flexing his legs as he got ready for the first punch. Matthew had been taller than Blaine, but he was a peaceful man, always minding his own business, concentrating on fishing and football. Surprisingly, it was the short, compact but strong Blaine who had taught his son to box, to throw neat, well-aimed punches. Fifteen minutes later, there was a fire burning in his belly, his breathing coming in pants and sweat pouring down his back. He slowed down, the anger pushed back into a simmer and guilt pushing itself up into his stomach, making him feel hollow and empty.

He was denying his father his happiness. It had been three days since Blaine had broken up with Kurt after a huge argument with his son, and the sight wasn't pretty. Alex had yelled at his father about being a traitor to Papa, had thrown out angry, half-belligerent words to his father, and had only stopped when he saw that Blaine was pale with shock, with guilt and with pain. He'd been too scared to go after his father after that fight, and Blaine had spent the whole day locked up in his room.

He had lurked outside his father's room for a long time, but there was no noise, nothing. Just a dark silence, and Alex felt his skin crawl with worry and pure despair. That evening, his father had come out, made dinner quietly like nothing had happened, had washed the dishes and helped Alex with his homework. When Alex had tried to apologize, he just shook his head. "It won't be a problem anymore, Alex," he'd said softly. "Kurt's not going to be around anymore. Don't worry."

And that was that. Blaine went through the routines of his day and Alex did the same, aware that something was broken in the house. His father still loved him, he knew that. No matter what had happened, the only steadfast thing in his life had been Blaine's love. His father trusted him as well, not changing any of the roles or liberties that Alex had enjoyed before. But something had broken, all the same.

And there were here now, at the crossroads where nobody seemed to know which way to go. Pulling off his boxing gloves, Alex sank onto the bed, his anger still brimming in his stomach. He just didn't know who it was directed toward anymore. Was it Kurt, for disturbing the endless routine of the two people in the family? Was it Blaine, for forgetting about Matthew and dating another man? Was it himself, for stealing that joy from his father's eyes? Alex didn't know anymore.

A soft knock startled him from his reverie and he looked toward the door. Blaine was standing there with a glass of juice, his gaze taking in his sweaty son in his work clothes. He came into the room, holding out the drink to his son as he sank down on the mattress next to him. Alex couldn't help but notice it – his father moved like he was heavier now, weighed down by something he couldn't see.

Blaine smiled at his son, handing him the juice. "Hey. Heard you working out and thought you might need some fluids after that." He smiled gently, running his fingers through his son's damp curls. "You feeling okay? It's… it's been a while since you've boxed." It had, actually. He'd stopped for the past year, when the anger in his heart had slowed down to dying embers. Alex shrugged, taking the juice and drinking it. Blaine frowned a little, but said nothing further about it. "I was thinking we could have a movie night today? We could watch the Harry Potter movies – any one you wish."

Alex nodded again, looking up at his dad's earnest face and smiling a little. "I'd like that," he said softly. "Maybe we could start off with the first one again?" Blaine nodded. "Okay. I'll get some popcorn ready and some drinks. It's just you and me, bud." He stood up and left, and Alex could hear him pottering around in the kitchen.

He couldn't move. Not after those words. It was just him and Blaine. He had destroyed the only chance of a bigger family, of more love and laughter. He'd stolen what had been restored to his father. Slowly, he padded down the stairs, reaching the entrance of the kitchen.

He hadn't realized that Blaine hadn't heard him coming. He had a picture of Matthew in his hands, and Alex felt his heart breaking at the sobs his father was emitting, sitting at the kitchen table, trying so hard to keep quiet because his son might hear him. "He's right, Matty," Blaine whispered. "He's right. I had no right to date again, god, I had no right to love again. I stole that from you. I'm so sorry, Matty. I swear, I'll… It will be just Alex and me. He's… he's everything to me. A part of you I'll hold on to till I die." He was holding the picture so tight that the frame was digging into his palms, and Alex turned away, rushing back to his room and shutting the door, heart beating in his chest.

When he went back down after 15 minutes, Blaine was smiling easily, a bowl of popcorn in one hand and the DVD in the other. He pulled Alex to him, putting his arm around him and dimming the lights as they watched the movie together. And Alex sent a quick message to Kurt Hummel. _Meet me. Tomorrow at 12. At the Lima Bean. _


	2. Chapter 2

The next day was warm and Alex dressed light to meet Kurt in the coffee shop. He kept rethinking the meeting again and again, wondering if it was a good idea to even meet Kurt when he had all these qualms about letting the man into their lives. But then he remembered his father's tear streaked face and his hands clutching at the photo of his dead husband and his resolve strengthened.

He arrived 5 minutes early and took a seat near the window, ordering a doughnut for himself with a coke. A few minutes later, Kurt walked in and slid into the seat across Alex, dressed spectacularly well. He was poised and styled. Alex guessed that fashion was a real passion for him, not just a job that paid well.

They were silent for a while, Kurt ordering some coffee and biscotti for himself. He looked down into the brown depths of his cup, stirring the coffee slowly with his spoon, looking like he was gathering up the courage to say something or do something. Alex could literally hear his heart beating fast over the din of the coffee shop and surreptitiously closed his fingers over his bag, holding on to the leather tight as he tried to figure out how to start this conversation.

It was Kurt who broke the silence first, and with a jarring question. "Tell me about him. Your father, Matthew."

Alex's eyes widened and a rather stubborn set of his jaw came about as he jutted his chin out. "Why? You can't be him, even if you want to."

Kurt said nothing; he just took a sip from his coffee cup. "You know, she was beautiful. My mother. Long golden hair, blue eyes, a kind, lovely face. I was about the same age as you when I lost her." His eyes took on a faraway look. "She… she used to read to me, mostly fairy tales. I loved her voice, it was low and soothing and I felt like nothing could touch me when she was around. She smelled like bluebells and summer. I remember that." He stared out of the window, seeming lost in that time when he was a child, in the magic of his mother's touch.

When Alex opened his mouth, most of the words came out broken even though he tried to keep his voice steady. "I keep forgetting him," he croaked softly. "I forget sometimes if his favorite color was red or purple. I keep forgetting what he said to me on my birthday, what drink he liked, how blue his eyes are. I look at pictures sometimes, but I just see a picture of him. Not him. Never him."

And Kurt nodded as if it was the sanest thing in the world to talk about. "It's true. I don't remember much about my mother either. Just her voice when she read to me, and the way she smelled. I don't remember anything else, really." Alex was staring resolutely ahead of him, swallowing hard and trying to get his voice to work. "How… how do I hold on to his memory when it's flowing away like this? How… how am I supposed to remember the man who loved me so much, and I can't… I can't recall?"

Kurt sighed, his attention back to the boy in front of him. "Alex," he said softly. "You can't. You can't remember all of it. I don't. But parents… they never let go of you. I may not remember all the small pieces of my mother, but the smell of warm summer days bring her back to me. I remember her love, Alex. I'm sure Matthew loved you and you loved him. Some days, that's all you have to remember. That's enough."

Alex nodded, a lump the size of a golf ball stuck in his throat. He swallowed hard and fast, trying to gain control of himself. Kurt was looking at him, eyes understanding more than he could put in words. "So… you actually called me here," his eyes twinkled. "I'm guessing to give me a piece of your mind. Let's hear it then." Kurt was good at this, Alex realized. He was good at pretending that he was fine, but Alex could see the nervous energy behind the smile. That was the last element of the conversation that convinced him about this.

"My dad. Talk to him. He's… he's really sad and he misses you. I… I know I was a complete douchebag and said things that I'm really, really ashamed of right now, but Dad broke up with you only because I made him… I made him believe in things that are utter lies. Could you… maybe talk to him? Please?" Alex turned beseeching eyes at Kurt, trying to convince him to do this because, as it turns out, they both needed him.

Kurt was just looking straight at him, then leaned back in his chair. "You know, when Carole started dating my father, I was fine with it, but still so wary. Wary that she would take my Mom's place, wary that she would try to relate to me in the same way. It came as a shocker when she didn't."

Kurt held his gaze and Alex could see that he was being absolutely honest. "I'm not your Papa Matthew, Alex. I will never be, and I'm not trying to be. I'm Kurt. To your father and to you." He stood up, the hints of a smile teasing the corners of his lips. Alex decided that he liked this man, could maybe hang around him a little more. He smiled too, all doubts removed from his heart.

Kurt paid the bill, tipping the waitress a good sum of money as he walked with Alex outside the café. "I'll be there in the evening, today. I'd like you to be around, Alex, because I'm pretty sure your father is going to need you. There…" Kurt hesitated here, looking sad for a moment. "There's a lot of your father you maybe don't get – and there's only one person in the world that he seeks approval from. You."

And with that, Kurt left, his scarf blowing a little in the wind as Alex watched him get into his car and drive away. He sighed, turning and walking in the opposite direction. Things may or may not work out tonight, but he was glad he'd made the right choice. Right now, he was just scared that his father would be the one saying no to Kurt – because of his son's words. Traitor.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex ended up pacing in his room for almost an hour, his fingernails bitten to the core with nervous energy as he waited for Kurt's arrival in the evening. He had already sent Kurt more than five texts, only to be reassured by him that he was surely coming and he would explain things to his father.

What happened next felt like the worst time of Alex's life other than his Papa's death. Kurt had arrived in the evening, and Blaine had refused to open the door. He just ignored the insistent knocking, the gentle coaxing and the persistent cajoling, just going about his work as if it were normal. But Alex could see him breaking with every passing minute, his hands shaking, his body tensing till Alex thought it would be positively painful and his throat bobbing as he kept swallowing hard. Alex had just gotten to wondering if he should get into the fray himself when Blaine walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs, shutting himself up inside his room.

And that's the situation they were in now. Kurt was still outside the house, and Alex was itching to open the door, but he didn't know how his father would react and that killed him. He hesitantly went down and opened the door, cursing the creak that it let out, the tell-tale noise that had led to many a grounding as his father had caught him trying to sneak out of the house after diner. Kurt was sitting on the stairs and he turned, looking hopeful as the door unlocked, but his face fell again when it was not the person he was expecting. He looked up at Alex, eyes shining as he bit his lip and shook his head. "He… He's never going to let me into his life if he's not letting me into his home, Alex."

Alex huffed, not willing to let this go, not when he knew that it made both men miserable if they weren't seeing each other. "Okay, hold on, you've got to fight for this!" he said fiercely to Blaine. "My father is worth it, okay? He's just… I'll talk to him. Give me half an hour, just a few minutes. I'll try to convince him, but you can't leave. Not now, he needs someone, Kurt, and he doesn't need to lose everybody he loves." He was begging and pleading with Kurt now, and he knew the exact moment when Kurt gave in, his whole stance softening as he nodded and buried his head under his arms, taking his place of waiting outside again.

Alex slipped back inside, slowly moving to his father's room and shamelessly jimmying the lock like Meredith had taught him to last summer and letting himself into the almost dark room, only to have his heart break into a thousand pieces. Blaine was lying on the ground next to the bed, curled into a ball, tears falling from his eyes. But there was a silence to his crying, like he was so tired of everything and just wanted it to end, like there was nothing left to react for, no passion left even in his grieving. And on the floor all around him were spread pictures, pictures of Matthew and Blaine over the years, some with Alex and some without him, all of them featuring two smiling men hopelessly in love.

Blaine jerked up when he realized that Alex was in the room, wiping his eyes hastily and trying to gather the pictures from the floor. "I'm sorry, Alex," he apologized nervously, quickly gathering the photos and pushing them into a box that he'd kept open on the side. "I… I didn't realize that I'd left the door open." Alex breathed a sigh of relief at his father's oversight; at least he didn't have to explain his criminal talents and his weirdo friends. Blaine flashed a small smile at Alex, becoming the father once again, putting up the front for his son and locking away all the grief and guilt. And it suddenly hit Alex that his father was always there for him when he grieved, but there was nobody to hold him in turn and comfort him. He'd lost the love of his life and he'd made it through every day with a teenage son and a lonely home without a word of complaint.

Alex nodded, a surge of strength taking him by surprise. "You know," he said, keeping his voice light and conversational, "It's not great manners to lock your guests out of the house and let them sit on the stairs, dad. You're not setting a great example here." He kept his voice low and deliberate, slightly teasing.

Blaine's eyebrows cocked up in surprise. "Umm… I… I'm sorry about that, Alex," he said softly, though his eyes were locked outside the window, looking in the general direction of where Kurt would be seated on the cold concrete step. "I did promise you he won't be back, and he is."

"Of course he's here. I invited him."

If the situation weren't so serious, Alex would have burst out laughing at the incredulous look on Blaine's face. "W-what?"

"Not cool, dad, locking my guest outside the house. What's he going to think about me?"

Blaine looked confused and hopeful for a second, but then Alex saw his shoulders fall, and to his surprise, dejection fall across his face. "The joke's over, Alex. I… I told you I won't be seeing him again, and we should leave it at that. Dangling… dangling this in front of me is just cruel. So… please. Please don't do this. Please tell him to go back home."

Alex was left speechless for a moment before he sat down on the floor next to Blaine. And it was a while before either of them uttered a word.

"What were you doing, Dad?" Alex said softly. "You were sitting with Dad's pictures around you, crying like he'd died again." He ignored the flinch from his father. "I… I can't bear to see you like this. He… he would have wanted you to be happy, Dad. He loved you so much, and you know that. You think this is what he would have wanted for you – sitting around the house crying over what once was?" He stopped Blaine's words quickly again. "I know. I know you love him, and I know he loves you. But he's not here. And Kurt is. Kurt's great, and if I have to approve of someone for my dad, he'd be my pick. And mind you, that's saying a lot because my Daddy Blaine deserves the best. Papa Matthew taught me that."

There was a rawness to Blaine's face that made Alex feel like he was sinking and floating all at once. "Dad…" he said softly. "I spoke to him. I spoke to Kurt and I understood it all. I was wrong, Dad. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And Kurt… he understands me more than most people. I want that. I want this chance, for you and for me. Please."

Blaine reached forward and pulled Alex into a hug, and Alex gladly went, wrapping his arms around his father and squeezing tightly. Blaine's voice was rough and wet as he whispered to his son, "I love you. More than anything in the world, Alex. You're everything to me." He was hugging him tighter, fingers digging into his skin and Alex was far from caring if they were both going to leave physical bruises on each other. They were both crying now and desperately trying to stop as well, both mending and healing and curing each other with love and family and affection.

Alex pushed his father away after a bit, smiling a little. "Go get your man, Dad," he said, then frowned with disgust. "Eww… that sounds weird, old man. But appropriate. Go get your man."

Blaine let out a sound that sounded like a cross between a sob and a laugh, but nodded and turned, making his way to the front door and opening it. Alex watched as both men looked at each other for a long second and then Kurt just pulled Blaine to him, wrapping him up in his arms and hugging him close to his chest. He watched as his father started crying again, but they were tears of joy and relief and love. He smiled as his father lifted his tear streaked face to Kurt and smiled through the sadness. "Bingo," he whispered. "We did great, Papa Matthew. See that? He's smiling that smile you love, again."


End file.
